Seeing as most songs are written about fancying someone, it's amazing how often pop equates wanting to see somebody naked with "you-make-me-complete", doey-eyed smulch. This is what love songs should sound like in 2010: hedonistic, dangerous, aware that things might look different in the cold light of day, but not that bothered all the same. Katy B – perhaps the most exciting new singer in the UK – rides the contours of Magnetic Man's cinematic dubstep with a butterflies-in-your-stomach exposition of the physics of physical attraction.

This probably sounded great when they played it at week four of conflict mediation: Gazza and Bob sat back-to-front on plastic chairs, gazing gayly into each other's eyes as the rest of the group look on, wiping the tears away with their court summons. But back in the real world, lines like "I read your mind and tried to call/My tears could fill the Albert Hall", are so fringe-sweepingly emo we want to slit our wrists. Oh actually not slit our wrists. That's how you beat the emos.

This is like a "previously on Lost" montage of the past six years of British pop. There's a breathy girl vocal with a slightly over-accentuated London accent; ooh look it's like the 80s only it's really the noughties-type synth doodling; and a Coldplay-style this-is-where-the-fireworks-would-go middle eight. She probably could have done without that 29th keyboard part, but generally it's very listenable indeed.

Michelle Heaton was in this band before Liberty X, which gives you an idea of how long they've been plugging away. Imagine the things they've seen in that decade as an entirely unsucessful girlband: the wet T-shirt competitions, the alwight-darlin' nightclub owners, the adultering football players. Sirens are so desperate to get off the seediest rung of the music industry they've recorded a Two Pints Of Lager And A Packet Of Crisps-style parody of Just Dance where the notes and lyrics have been tweaked just enough to avoid legal complications. This last-ditch attempt at stardom is going to flop spectacularly but they might be able to wangle their own Snog Marry Avoid special out of it.

You will have seen this filling up your Facebook news feed in recent weeks as people you considered your friends ROFLed themselves silly at a song where the chorus contains a rude word. You'll giggle the first time you hear it, but this is a shrinker: a song that gets worse with every listen. The final straw is the Forget You radio edit, which lobotimises the song's only gag. Next week: Sarah Silverman's I'm Kanoodling Matt Damon.